From hope to joy to despair... the shattering journey when IVF doesn’t end with a baby in your arms
HAVING IVF has come to be seen as just a step in the journey towards having a baby for women with fertility issues. But, in fact, it’s a gruelling route that can raise a couple’s hopes — only to cruelly dash them again.
Welsh TV presenter Elin Fflur, 34, and her husband Jason, 36, have opened up their extremely personal diaries to show the true impact of IVF on a marriage. Here, they reveal how, in just nine weeks, they lived through the best day of their lives — and the worst . . .
DAY ONE OF OUR IVF JOURNEY
ELIN SAYS: it’s 6.45am and i’m sitting in bed at our home on Anglesey, cup of tea in one hand and a needle in the other. My stomach is churning. Am i strong enough for this? is Jason?
smiling at him, i drive the needle, containing a drug to stimulate my ovaries, into my stomach. i close my eyes and visualise holding our baby in my arms.
People must think i’ve got it all: a great career, a husband i adore. But there’s one thing i want desperately — to be a mum, showering my child with the love my parents gave me and my two brothers.
it was through my brothers that i met Jason. We started dating when i was 16 and i was heartbroken when he went to America on a university sports scholarship.
When he came back five years later and got in touch, i didn’t hesitate. We married in December 2012 and moved into our first home, which Jason, a builder, had constructed. Now he’s working on our second house. That’s the sort of solid, can-do man he is — my rock.
All our friends started having babies, but we wanted to wait until we were financially ready. i assumed i’d get pregnant easily.
But it didn’t happen. so, in 2016, i went to my GP. He referred me to a gynaecologist and an exploratory operation revealed my fallopian tubes were blocked with fluid. i woke from anaesthetic to be told i would never conceive naturally.
i think of myself as strong, but i sobbed my heart out.
Jason reassured me, saying he loved me and that was all that mattered. it’s a mantra he’s repeated over and over. i believe him, but that doesn’t stop me feeling sad and guilty. i know he wants a baby as much as i do.
We were promised two attempts at iVF on the NHs. The first, in January last year, failed, probably because the fluid in my tubes prevented the egg implanting properly. i was told i’d need them removed, which i did that May.
Then came a hammer blow. Funding was withdrawn and our second iVF attempt was cancelled.
We couldn’t bear to give up. instead, we scraped together our savings — earmarked for our baby — and wrote a cheque for £11,000 to the Manchester Fertility Clinic. The money buys us two tries.
so here we are, on day one. i’ve bought a little teddy bear for the baby: it’s my way of forcing myself to think positive. i tell myself if i believe enough, it will happen.
JASON SAYS: i know my job is to stay strong for Elin, but inside, i’m every bit as nervous. i’m really close to my little sister, Lisa, 30, and love playing with her children, Alfie, five, and Nancy, three. Every time, it hammers home how much i want that for us.
After seven years of check-ups, we feel failed by the NHs. Now, it’s our last throw of the dice.
DAY SIX
ELIN SAYS: The drugs i’m injecting make me incredibly tired, but i’m lucky to avoid other symptoms.
At work, i try to smile, but i’m feeling so guilty and worthless. i can’t give Jason a baby. i can’t give my parents a grandchild. What sort of woman am i?
Today, there’s a tweet from a stranger: ‘Elin looks pregnant.’ it’s a knife to the heart.
Telling our parents was hard, but we couldn’t keep this from them. i’ve told some friends at work, too. it was only fair, as i might be emotional, but owning up was tough.
JASON SAYS: i’m trying to keep myself distracted. When i’m not working, i’m in the gym, trying to blot out my thoughts. i haven’t felt able to tell my mates what Elin is going through. Besides, i don’t see so much of them these days — another side-effect of being childless. They don’t mean to exclude us, and i refuse to feel jealous, but we’re not part of the ‘parent pack’.
DAY EIGHT
ELIN SAYS: We’re in starbucks in Manchester, waiting for the call that could change our lives.
This morning, our consultant, Dr Peter Kerecsenyi, scanned my stomach to see how many tiny eggs — called follicles — are developing in my womb. To stand the best chance, he wants at least 12.
The minutes seem like hours as we wait for the results. Then the phone rings and Jason reaches for my hand. it’s not the news we wanted: there are just four follicles. ‘i can’t advise you what to do,’ says the nurse. ‘Think it through together.’
We can go ahead and pay the full fee of £5,500, or restart the process, hopefully harvest more eggs and pay nothing for this attempt.
As i put my mobile down, i’m shaking. ‘i think we should carry on,’ says Jason, firmly. i agree — but that night, we sit in our hotel room, watching TV in silence.
JASON SAYS: When the phone rings, i’m scared as a kitten. But we don’t need a football team of babies. We only need one — one egg, one embryo, one baby. i start dreaming of walking to school with a little girl holding my hand. she’s blonde with pigtails, just like Elin.
DAY 12
ELIN SAYS: Back at the clinic, we make silly jokes as Jason is led off to provide a sperm sample. We’ve both cut out alcohol, cut down on caffeine and eaten as healthily as possible for months, to give our bodies the best chance.
When the embryologist says Jason’s sample contains a whopping 149 million sperm, he looks like King of the World. Dr Kerecsenyi is happy with four eggs from me. He’ll know in 24 hours whether any of them have fertilised.
Driving home, i cry buckets. i know it’s mad, but it feels like we’re leaving a bit of ourselves behind.
Until now, i’ve had such an easy ride. Every goal that i’ve set, i’ve achieved — exams, career, singing competitions. But i can’t steer this. it’s out of my control.
JASON SAYS: it’s my time in the spotlight. i’m really nervous. i’m terrified i’ll let Elin down. When the embryologist says my sample contains 149 million sperm, Elin says she almost sees my chest expand in pride. i’m just relieved.
DAY 13
ELIN SAYS: Waiting is agony. We watch Bond films back-to-back, jumping every time the phone
rings. Finally, just before 5pm, the clinic calls. Two of the embryos have fertilised. They are ‘ top quality’, perfect. I rush round to see my parents. Mum tries to contain her excitement, but she is sparkling with joy.
JASON SAYS: I want to whirl Elin round the room. We’ve passed another hurdle.
DAY 16
ELIN SAYS: I literally run into the clinic, laughing. I’m sedated as the best embryo is implanted. ‘Now go and get on with your life,’ Dr Kerecsenyi tells me. It all seems so unreal. I’m scared the embryo will fall out if I sneeze or even stand up. There’s a superstition eating salt can help an embryo develop. So we stop at McDonald’s for a bag of chips. The place is packed with children. I’m sure it’s a good omen. JASON SAYS: There’s no point sitting around. As I work on our house, I picture the day we can paint the nursery. Hopeful or foolish?
DAY 20
ELIN SAYS: Waiting is torture. Either my period will come and all our hopes will be over, or I will be pregnant. I’m plagued by vivid dreams of sitting on the beach in Anglesey where I played as a child. Splashing in the sea is a girl — my little girl. I love that dream, though waking up breaks my heart. But there’s a worse dream. I’m holding a baby when, suddenly, it’s snatched from my arms. I run as fast as I can, but never catch up. My baby is gone for ever. However hard I fight to stay positive, it seems my brain won’t let me. I go for lunch with Heledd — we bonded when we were both considering IVF and she’s now heavily pregnant at her fifth attempt. ‘It’s like gambling,’ she admits. ‘You get hooked on hope.’ As we part, Heledd hands over a pregnancy test. ‘ Coming from a pregnant woman, it’s supposed to bring good luck,’ she smiles. This whole mysterious process has made me superstitious, I realise. JASON SAYS: Our parents try to hide their nerves, but I can’t bear the thought of disappointing them. Being helpless is hard to accept.
DAY 26
ELIN SAYS: I bound out of bed. I should wait another four days to do the test, but it’s Dad’s 65th birthday and I tell Jason it’s a good omen. The truth is I’m so mad with worry, I can’t wait. Jason kisses the test as I go into the loo.
There are two tiny blue lines. ‘We’re pregnant,’ says Jason as he whirls me around. We’re both crying and, for the first time, it hits me how much this truly means to him. He’s kept his emotions so in check, for fear of worrying me.
We tell everyone our news at Dad’s party — there are tears and Jason’s mum grabs him in a huge hug. That night, I stroke the teddy I bought. Without a doubt it’s the happiest day of my life.
JASON SAYS: When I look at the test, the floodgates open for the first time since our wedding.
I hadn’t realised how much I’ve been keeping things locked away. Now I want to shout to the world: ‘We’re having a baby.’
DAY 52
ELIN SAYS: I feel properly pregnant — my boobs ache and I’m queasy. But I’ve kept quiet to most people until my 12-week scan today, at my local hospital. Jason ‘ oohs’ and ‘aahs’ with me as we see this tiny baby shape on the screen.
But something’s wrong — the heartbeat is slow. The stenographer tries to reassure us, but I feel a cold dread. She suggests we return in a week for another scan.
JASON SAYS: I’ve promised to be strong for Elin, but I lose it. We walked into hospital as expectant parents and now we’re sitting in a little office, facing a future without a baby. We hug and I start crying. This time, it’s Elin who comforts me. ‘We’ve got each other,’ she whispers. It makes me love her even more.
DAY 63
ELIN SAYS: Our baby is dead. I’ve had scan after scan and, each time, the heartbeat was fainter. Now, it’s gone. No one knows why and I tell myself that one in four pregnancies end in miscarriage.
Often, it’s so early, women never know they’re pregnant. But Jason and I lived every second of this so intensely and we’ve lost someone we loved deeply.
I can’t bear to picture the pain when we tell our families. This is the worst day of my life.
JASON SAYS: This feels like a secret shame. So few people knew we were pregnant that they don’t understand our grief. Yet I can barely drag myself out of bed and I’m terrified of the future. What will it do to Elin? I can’t stand to think of her pain.
TODAY
ELIN SAYS: We’ve thrown ourselves into work, but my most important role is yet to be fulfilled. We’re too raw to embark on a second cycle now, but we will.
I tell myself I got pregnant once and I can again. Jason and I are stronger than ever.
But IVF feels like a looming third presence in our marriage. Jason reassures me that it’s me he loves; but it doesn’t stop me longing to give him a baby.
JASON SAYS: Time really does heal. We feel strong enough to start again — hopefully, before Christmas. We have no illusions now; we know how tough it can be. But we’re resilient and we will get through this.
You, Me And IVF is available on iPlayer.